


Pointed towards Eternity.

by Truthwritaslies



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Character Death, Community: comment_fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-16
Updated: 2011-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-27 10:09:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/294580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Truthwritaslies/pseuds/Truthwritaslies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Comment_Fic prompt:</p><p>Any, Any, "Because I could not stop for Death –<br/>He kindly stopped for me –<br/>The Carriage held but just Ourselves –<br/>And Immortality."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pointed towards Eternity.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own BBC Sherlock or related characters. I'm not making any money off this ficlet.
> 
> Both the title and the prompt are from Emily Dickinson's "Death".

James Moriarty does not expect Mycroft Holmes and his assistant to be waiting for him in the cab he enters two months after the purported death of Sherlock Holmes.

The absolute worst of it is how casually Mycroft holds the pistol. As if he's only deigning to threaten Moriarty by so crass a weapon.

However, it doesn't mean the gun isn't held to inflict the maximum pain and damage before finally allowing the relief of death.

"The problem," Mycroft began. "is that my brother is far more intellagent than the average man, yet he doesn't have the common sense the good lord gave a five year old. You're encouraging him in all the wrong directions and I can not allow it to continue."

Mycroft sighed, disappointed.

"You could have been something quite special if you had only stayed away from Sherlock but once you got involved in your little game you lost sight of the goal.

I had such hopes for you, James."

The noise of the gun is louder than he's used to: doubled, trebled by the small space in the cab.

After the first gasp of pain Anthea's delicate hand smothers Moriarty's cries.

Two hours later the silence is broken.

"James Moriarty. Born December 17th, 1983. Died January 6th, 2013."

Anthea says nothing as she types the information into her blackberry. She hesitates a moment before noting that he was the victim of a mugging shortly before his death.

There are people who will make it true, as far as the police are concerned.


End file.
